Night Wanderers
IT was Gypsy's birthday. She woke early in the morning, in glad
anticipation of the eventful day. It had seemed such a very long time
since her last birthday; and so much had happened lately that, as she
had told the boys the evening before, she felt years and years older.
A great treat was in store for her. Irene was coming to spend the whole
day with her, the boys had a holiday, and they were going to take their
dinner out to a wood a little distance off. From dwelling on these
delights in front of her, Gypsy's thoughts assumed a more serious form.
She hugged Helen Mary closer to her, and began to talk in a whisper.
"I'm seven years old, Helen Mary, and I'm going to be a very good girl
always now. And I'm going to look for the Holy Thing harder than ever.
I must find it. Look at that text over there! 'Those that seek Me early
shall find Me.' Oh, I wish I could! I wish I could! I shall go away and
look for it, like Galahad did; it isn't in this house. I must go right
away, and perhaps I shall find it on the top of a hill! I wonder if I
could look for it when we're out to-day! I'll talk to Irene about it
when she comes."
"Gypsy, many happy returns of the day, and here's my present!"
It was Claud, his head just inside the door, and Donald from behind
him echoed the good wish; then, flinging two parcels on to her bed,
they scampered away, and with trembling fingers and radiant face Gypsy
opened her presents.
These were characteristic of the givers. A bull's eye lantern with a
real candle in it from Donald; a bow and arrow from Claud; but Gypsy
was supremely content with both, and they were more to her taste than
the pretty little work-box given to her by Miss Gubbins.
They were chattering merrily over their breakfast when Victor opened
the door and looked in. "Do you want the trap round at ten or eleven,
Miss Gubbins? I suppose I must pay my respects to this important young
woman. How many birthdays have you had?"
Victor was fast gaining Gypsy's confidence, though the boys still held
aloof from him. At the sound of his voice she had run up to him, and
had received a birthday kiss.
"I'm seven," she said proudly.
Victor put thumb and finger slowly into his waistcoat pocket, then held
out a gold coin.
"I think you might be trusted with this, then. Don't spend it all on
sugar-plums."
And whilst Gypsy was holding in her small palm a sovereign for the
first time in her life, and hardly knowing how to express her thanks,
he turned to talk to Miss Gubbins.
The boys came up to their sister at once.
"I wish it was my birthday," said Donald enviously, "I would buy such
heaps of things that I want. I say, Gypsy, you can get a lovely set of
cricket stumps and two bats for 10s. When are you going to spend it?"
Gypsy looked important.
"I must go to the shops and see," she said. "I shan't get any cricket
unless I like."
"No, I'll tell you," said Claud eagerly, "buy a real gun that we can
shoot rabbits with. You always said you would like to shoot, and we'll
get old Sykes to take us out in the morning before breakfast."
These disinterested suggestions only half commended themselves to
Gypsy, but the ownership of such a sum of money gave her much thought
and anxiety.
The arrival of Irene soon turned her mind into other channels, there
was so much to talk about and to show her. At eleven o'clock the
waggonette was at the door, and Victor packed the children in, who were
followed by Miss Gubbins.
When they were well out of sight of the house, Gypsy said, "I believe
the Ogre would have liked to come with us."
"Oh, shut up!" exclaimed Donald. "You'll be getting so fond of him that
you'll be tied to his coat-tails soon. You're a traitor, that's what
you are!"
"It's my birthday," retorted Gypsy angrily, "and you're not to call me
names!"
"Hush, children," said Miss Gubbins, "let us have no quarrelling. Try
and show Irene how good you can be, not how naughty."
"I like naughty children best," said Irene quickly.
The boys grinned, but Gypsy looked grave.
"I'm trying to be very good to-day," she said, "and I shall look for
the Holy Thing again. I expect I didn't find t before because I was too
little. Seven is a lot older than six, isn't it, Gubby?"
"Yes," assented Miss Gubbins absently, as she took out a book from her
pocket and began to read. "Now sit quiet, like good children. We have
an hour's drive before us."
"You didn't look for it at the proper time," said Claud thoughtfully,
crossing his legs with a grandfatherly air; "you ought to ride away in
the forest just when the sun is setting, and when it's getting darker
and darker, and then you see the light of it, and you follow it on."
"Yes," put in Donald, "and when Claud and I get some ponies to ride,
that's what we mean to do. You will miss us one day, and then you will
know where we have gone."
"It says, 'Seek Me early,'" said Gypsy, her eyes fixed earnestly on her
brother's face.
"Of course. But it doesn't say you'll find it early. It's always late
at night. Besides, that's a text you're saying. That doesn't come in
'Arthur and his Knights.'"
"But the Holy Thing means the same as the text, I know it does," argued
Gypsy.
"I say, just lend me your bow and arrow, and let me have a shot at the
birds as we go up this hill."
Gypsy held her lantern tightly in one hand, and her bow and arrows in
the other. The sovereign was safely screwed up in a piece of paper in
the bottom of her pocket. Nothing would induce her to leave these gifts
at home. She demurred at trusting Donald with her bow.
"You'll be losing the arrows," she said.
"I'll jump out and pick them up again; we're going so slowly."
But Miss Gubbins forbade this suggestion being carried out, and they
drove on through the sweet country lanes, up and down hill, until at
last they came to their destination. It was a beautiful wood stretching
away for a couple of miles to a breezy down beyond. For the next few
hours the children enjoyed themselves as only children can. The picnic
dinner came first, then games of hide and seek, and rambles after
wild flowers, and nuts and blackberries. Irene laughed and chatted as
merrily as any; her pale little face grew quite childlike and rosy with
her exertions to imitate the others round her.
The tea was even more delightful than the dinner, for they were allowed
to gather sticks and have a fire. It was when tea was over, and, rather
tired with their play, they were lying on the grass watching the dying
flames of the fire, that Donald spoke in his most peremptory and solemn
manner.
"Agony is angry."
Claud and Gypsy looked at the smoke anxiously.
It was certainly very black, but they hoped every minute to see it
clear. Irene had to be initiated into this game, and when they rose to
their feet, and Donald said in the same impressive tone, "Follow me,"
she stole forward on tiptoe with the others, almost expecting to be led
to her death.
Miss Gubbins called after them:
"You have one hour left before we pack up, so make the most of it."
Donald led them some distance through some thick bushes, and then
paused before an old oak tree.
"We are to climb this right to the top," he said solemnly.
Claud looked delighted, Gypsy rather anxious, and Irene thoroughly
frightened.
A little breathless whisper from Irene to Gypsy followed.
"I don't know how to climb. I can't do it."
"It's very easy if you don't go too high."
This was not reassuring to poor Irene.
Donald was already ascending, Claud following, when Gypsy said:
"I don't think Irene and I are coming. It's too difficult for us."
"You must come," Donald shouted.
But Gypsy felt very bold to-day. Was it not her birthday? Was she not
now seven years old, and the possessor of a golden sovereign?
She turned away.
"Old Agony will let me off because it's my birthday. Come, Irene, we
will go for a walk."
She darted off down a side path before the boys could stop her, and
Irene scampered after her.
"Now we'll sit down under this tree," said Gypsy, assuming the air of
generalship which she found very pleasant; "and we'll talk about the
Holy Thing."
Irene listened and pondered, and then said slowly:
"I should like to find it. I would like to begin to look for it now."
Then Gypsy's blue eyes sparkled with a sudden inspiration.
"We will go this very evening, Irene. Now, at once. We couldn't have a
better day than my birthday. Look! The sun is getting red behind those
trees. The boys said that was the proper time to set out. And I've got
my lantern and a candle, and some real matches in it. We put them there
this morning. And you're carrying my bow and arrows. I've got three
left, we might shoot some rabbits when we get hungry, and just fancy if
we see the Holy Thing to-night! Wouldn't it be lovely?"
"Oh yes," cried Irene excitedly, "let us go at once, before it gets
quite dark."
"We'll go along this path right through the wood."
Away they trotted hand in hand, with the blissful indifference of
childhood to all future difficulties and dangers. They lived only in
the present, they thought only of the present, it was natural they
should act accordingly.
It seemed a long way to Irene, and at last her steps began to flag.
"Is it much farther?" she asked.
"I'm going on till we see the light," said Gypsy, trying to speak
bravely, "and then we'll follow it."
But after a time even her courage gave way, and when they came to a
deep ditch with dry leaves, which bounded one side of the wood, she
suggested that they should sit down.
A few minutes after, huddled together, the two little girls fell fast
asleep in each other's arms, and so soundly did they sleep that the
shouts of those searching for them never reached their ears.
Gypsy was the first to wake, and when she did so it was quite dark. For
a moment she wondered where she was. When she remembered, she roused
Irene by violently shaking her.
"Wake up, Irene! We went to sleep and never said our prayers, and it's
the middle of the night!"
Irene woke with a start, and a little shiver.
"I'm frightened; let's go home. I don't like the dark, and it's cold."
"We'll say our prayers, and ask God to show us the Holy Thing. Kneel
down properly, Irene."
Two little figures with bowed heads and clasped hands repeated their
usual formula of evening prayer. It was a still quiet evening; only the
twittering of some restless birds and the distant hoot of some owls
disturbed the silence around them. Strangely enough, Gypsy did not feel
frightened. Her little soul was so wrought upon by the intense desire
to find the Holy Grail, that she forgot everything else.
"O God," she murmured, "please let us find the Holy Thing to-night.
We are trying to be very good, Irene and me; please don't let us have to
go home without finding it."
"I'm very cold," said Irene, after prayers had been said, and they
stood gazing at each other rather helplessly, wondering what was to be
done next.
"I think," said Gypsy, "if we scramble through this hedge we shall see
how to walk better. Let us try to get through this hole here."
This feat was accomplished, and through the deepening darkness they
saw stretching away before them an open common. It was a dreary sight.
Irene caught hold of her little companion's hand very tightly.
"We're very—brave—and—good—to—to come—aren't we?" she said in a
quavering voice.
"I'm sure we shall see the light soon," Gypsy responded, in a cheerful
little voice. "You see Galahad rode away into the dark, and Sir
Perceval after him, and Gubby told us the storm came on, and lightning
and thunder, and rain, and still he went on following the light."
"Look!" interrupted Irene. "Look!"
Gypsy started. There, in front of them, shone a light, and her little
heart beat quickly.
"It has come, Irene. Quick! Let us run after it; it will lead us
straight to the Holy Thing itself!"
Away they scampered over the short grass and dry bracken, and steadily,
though surely, the light moved on in front of them.